Page 56 of By the Pint

A few moments passed without either of us speaking. I tried my absolute best not to listen to his thoughts, even if I occasionally caught a flash of my own face, or my name being said, whispered.

An owl hooted from the nearby forest. A couple walked by the entrance to the mini golf course, stopped to share a stolen kiss.

C or D?

In the distance, searchlights striped the night sky above Remy. They came from Remy’s Paragon stadium when there was a big sports game or music concert on. Perhaps it was the weekend. I’d lost all my bearings and sense of time.

C or D?

Warmth enveloped my fingers, and I looked down to glimpse Casey nudging the back of my hand with his knuckles, still resolutely looking forward, and not at me.

Without thinking about it, I let my pinky and ring fingers wind around his.

And we stayed like that, quietly sipping our drinks, watching the lights twinkle on and off until we were double-crossed by the orange band of dawn swelling on the horizon.

Casey turned to me. He smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

I searched his face. Noticing for the first time the tiny wrinkles around his eyes, the flecks of silver at his temples and in his five o’clock shadow, the pores on his nose and between his brows. In my six-hundred-and-twenty-years, I’d never seen a more beautiful creature than Casey Freckleman.

See you tomorrow,I said, unable to form any words out loud.

18.

Dima

C or D. C or D. C or D. C or D.

What to do? What to do?

What should I fucking do?

Listen to my head, which was telling me to forget Casey? Push him into the corners of my mind, teach him how to block his, and then try — and probably fail — to forget about him.

Or listen to Little Dima, who’d become the mascot-costume-wearing, flag-waving cheerleader of Team D.

Four days had passed, four more volcano-side lessons, with Casey getting progressively — and distressingly — more adept at hiding his locker and keeping his thoughts contained.

Ninety-six hours of flip-flopping between a really hard decision and a fucking hard decision. And I still had no clue what to choose.

I didn’t know whether I wanted him to fail miserably so I could spend even more time with him, or boss the wholething, become an expert, and send him away to be turned so I could start my grieving process already. Because the other thing that had become more pronounced every time we met up, was the sheer frequency Casey thought about fucking me. And his thoughts were getting hotter, and more graphic, and more than just fleeting. His dick was on a constant cycle of semi-erectness.

Still, I pretended not to notice. Even if sometimes I had to pinch the bridge of my nose and force myself to picture Taurin sweaty and covered in bits of tree crap from the timberyard, or Goldie arguing with a cartoon computer guy, or Mal’s terrible cooking filling the flat up with acrid burnt food fumes.

“You gonna make me cry again tonight, or …?” Casey asked, reaching into his satchel, and pulling out a can of Blooze and a can of soda. A smile played at the corners of his lips. There was something different about him. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I was sure if I slipped into his mind, I’d figure it out, but it was almost … playful. Like a bubbling undercurrent of the giggles. Could Casey even be playful? Was it in his wheelhouse? Was I about to be the victim of a practical joke?

No don’t do it Dima. Don’t slip inside his mind and find out,I told myself.If Casey wanted to be silly for once, I should let him, right?

“No Mai Tai?” I asked.

“We’ve been here for more than a week. I’m out of Mai Tais.” He smiled again and angled his head away. Something was definitely afoot.

“A week? We’ve been here a week?” Where has my head been all that time? How had a week passed me by already? No wonder he was getting so good at this. Casey was right about there being nothing he wasn’t great at. The man was naturally talented at everything he put his hand to. “I’ll send for some more Mai Tais.”

“How much longer do you think we’ll be here?” he asked. “Doing these lessons? How much longer until I’m ready?”

I searched his dominant thoughts for a sign he was getting impatient or bored but couldn’t find anything. My shoulders detensed. I didn’t even realise they were so stiff.

“I guess it depends on how prepared you want to be. Do you want to fool your everyday mind-reading vampire you might unwittingly bump into on the street, or do you want to fool the hackers?”

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